when you grow up as the only one in your family who notices the dysfunction, you feel overly compelled to remember it. you take note of every slight. of every yell. of every eggshell you walk on. on the tears that were shed, sometimes out of sight. it was at least sixteen tears today. or wait, did that first one count? was it actually seventeen?
you keep these notes, you record everything diligently, you categorize and file. by the time you leave home you have a roll top desk that will barely close. but you can’t get rid of anything. because if you don’t keep these records, no one else will.
as you get older and try to reconcile who you were with who you are now, you can’t help but keep bringing the records up. but every time you pull out a file, date and time stamped, you’re met with blank stares.
“i don’t remember it like that.”
“are you sure that’s how it happened?”
“well, it was only one time.”
and you scream and you cry and you plead for someone else to remember it like you did. how could they not remember the events that shaped you? why can’t they see their wrongdoings? how will you ever get an apology, how will you ever know peace if no one else cares about the records?
but then you get even older. and you start to realize that though these records helped you as a child. though they were the only proof, the only validation that things went wrong, there are some you can let go of now. you no longer need the exact details. you no longer need to convince everyone that everything did happen as you remember. because the truth is, you can’t force people to see themselves in a way they’re not ready to acknowledge.
slowly you’ll realize that your acknowledgment of these events are enough. and they happened. and you’ll wrestle the roll top open. and you’ll start to rip up the files.
“your memories are valid.”
“you are seen.”
“you deserved better.”
and with each tear, you’ll make room for new memories. because you’re not a kid anymore. and you trust yourself. and the records did their job. and you can keep yourself safe now.
That was powerful.